


How It Works

by GreyLiliy



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus Prime has not been living up to his end of the bargain, and Galvatron has had enough!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Works

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write a serious Galvatron x Rodimus Prime piece featuring a One-Sided obsessive relationship on Galvatron's end to Rodimus, but instead I got this. It's a bit of a mess, and I blame the opening and ending scenes—but this isn't a professional work, and I have no desire to kill my darlings. So, a mess it shall stay. *weeps*
> 
> But I'm posting it anyway because maybe someone'll be inspired to write something better. o_o *glitter*

"YOU!" Both Ultra Magnus and Cyclonus yelled at each other as they met together in a barren field of Chaar.

The caked and sordid black dirt and scrap metal was the perfect setting for their rage and fury. The barren wasteland was their showdown.

The two sub-commanders glared at each other with the full intensity of their sparks, fists clenched and optics blazing in anger. Again, together they yelled: "What have you done with:

"Galvatron!" Cyclonus yelled while Ultra Magnus cried out, "Rodimus Prime!"

The two paused when they heard the other say the name of their respective commander. The field went silent, and even the wind dropped. Both Ultra Magnus and Cyclonus' faces formed a sneer at the same time in almost instant understanding.

"I take it you didn't kidnap Rodimus Prime," Ultra Magnus said, voice irritated.

Cyclonus cycled air heavily through his vents and counted to ten in his head. "Nor you taken my Mighty Galvatron captive."

The two stood facing each other, bodies now relaxed, and drenched in irritation over the murderous rage they had worn entering the battlefield.

"Do you suppose they're together?" Cyclonus asked, his shoulders sinking. His face formed an even deeper grimace.

Ultra Mangus mirrored him. "You would think if either of them were planning to capture or attack the other, they would inform their Sub-Commander of their intentions. It would be the sane thing to do."

"Galvatron's not sane," Cyclonus said, smacking his face with the palm of his hand. Scourge would be laughing at him for this for weeks on end.

* * *

"I don't feel you're fulfilling your end of the bargain," Galvatron said, standing tall and mighty—which he was. Why else would Cyclonus continue to call him 'Mighty Galvatron' if it weren't so? Galvatron paced slowly, one foot in front of the other and arms behind his back. "You realize that, don't you?"

"I don't remember us making any bargains," Rodimus said, shifting uncomfortably—ungratefully—in the seat Galvatron had provided. The maroon and orange mech, smirked at Galvatron—as if he still had control! "I try not to make deals with lunatics."

Galvatron restrained the urge to smack the whelp with his canon. It wasn't necessary. The Prime was merely lashing out because he was trapped. Galvatron nodded. Rodimus Prime was chained to a chair at the table, with his arms behind his back and legs restrained. He wasn't going anywhere, and he'd listen to reason if it killed him.

Not that Galvatron wanted to do that.

Or did he?

Galvatron shook his head, ignoring the tingle and flash of sparks that appeared around his head. He'd figure out one day whether or not he wanted the Prime Dead or Alive—but for now, there was a bigger picture at stake!

"No, no, no. You're not getting it, Rodimus! Are you not the Prime?" Galvatron asked, slamming a head down on the table. "Aren't you!?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Rodimus asked, rolling his eyes. He turned his head around the room. Galvatron snapped his fingers in those blue optics to draw the mech's attention back where it belonged. Prime huffed. "And where's your babysitter? Does Cyclonus know you're running around all alone?"

"Silence!" Galvatron smacked his fist on the table again, rattling the cube of energon he had offered Rodimus but remained untouched. Ungrateful brat. "You are Prime, which means you have certain obligations! Why, Optimus and I—"

"I'm not Optimus," Rodimus Prime said His eyes narrowed in a deliciously challenging and furious fashion.

It was a shame the anger wasn't directed where it was supposed to be! Prime was supposed to challenge Galvatron, not himself!

"Yes, yes, I know that." Galvatron growled, whacking the upstart brat across the back of his helm with a closed purple fist. Rodimus' head hit the table, and he grunted. The young Prime shut his trap, but glared away. Galvatron nodded again in approval. "Stop interrupting. Now, as I was saying!

"Optimus Prime is dead, and now you're here. That means all of his responsibilities are now on you—which I'm sure you know. Optimus and I had a thing. We were rivals. We had one-on-one fights, and were always meeting each other head on! However," Galvatron paused. "I find myself fighting Ultra Magnus more than you. Which is fine, but you really need to step up. You and I are supposed to have a connection! Meeting each other one on one on the field of battle! Throwing insults and blows back and forth as the Leaders of our respective groups! Connecting! That's how it works!"

"Look," Rodimus said. He sounded like he was talking to a sparkling! "I'm a little too busy now a days playing intergalactice peacekeeper to tumble and rough around with you. There's no 'Us' in this equation. Whatever you had with Optimus was long gone when you lost the war."

"No!" Galvatron screamed, slamming both fists on the table. The cube of energon knocked over, spilling the processed liquid across the steel surface. "Since when did 'intergalactic peacekeeping' take precedence over your most hated and long standing rival!?"

"When you lost the war!" Rodimus shouted. The Prime pulled at his restraints as he tried to nudge the chair closer to the table. "For goodness sake, the Decepticons are starving and isolated on their own planet! The last time I was on Chaar, I felt sorry for them after seeing how bad it was! At worst, you guys are a nuisance more than a threat, and frankly—I feel bad fighting your army. They get beat up by you enough as it is!"

At that point, Galvatron may have punched Rodimus Prime hard enough across the face to send the mech and the chair crashing to the ground in a heap of metal, that he then proceeded to kick, punch, and otherwise beat, while snarling angrily for a good full earth quarter of an hour.

He was a bit blinded by fury at the time to remember what exactly occurred in that span of white anger.

Whatever happened, Rodimus Prime's chair had been destroyed, and the restrains freed during the beating. Rodimus Prime, the mech himself, spat out a mouthful of energon, and heaved air heavily through his vents. He held himself up on his hands and knees, shivering on the ground like a turbo-fox. His joints sparked, and one of his pretty blue optics was covered in spider-web fractures.

Galvatron shoved Rodimus Prime in the side, rolling him over onto his back with a heavy thud. He straddled the damaged mech's waist, and leaned over him. The Prime was buried in Galvatron's shadow. He punched Rodimus across the face. "Let me make something very clear, Rodimus Prime:

"You're mine! My rival! Mine!" Galvatron raged, punctuating each declaration with a smack and a hit to the dented frame under him. Energon seeped from the flame-painted frame. Rodimus spit a wad of energon on his face. Galvatron slapped him, and leaned down low to hiss into the side of Rodimus Prime's helm. "You should have no other priority than me! Dabble with your humans and your intergalactic dealings if you must, but you're always going to return to me! That's the bargain! That's the deal! And that's how it works!"

"You're crazy," Rodimus chuckled. Pink energon stained the spaces between his teeth. His smile was infuriating in the same breath that it was enticing. "You know that, right?"

Galvatron lifted Rodimus' shoulders and slammed the mech down onto the floor. "Do you understand!?"

"Go frag yourself," Rodimus wheezed.

Galatron nearly hit him again, but he saw it. The tiniest flash of pure, fully focused, hatred—directed at Galvatron, and only for Galvatron. He lowered his fist, and dropped Rodimus Prime to the ground. That was enough for now. The two could work on the rest together in the heat of battle.

The Mighty Warlord lightly smacked the side of Rodimus' face in reward, and crawled off the mech. Rodimus attempted to move, but his systems had reached critical and he only managed a weakling's twitch. Galvatron could practically hear the warnings ringing in the kid's head from up top.

"Such trouble you are," Galvatron said, standing over his precious little Prime. He drank in the hatred radiating off the grounded frame.

* * *

Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus had come no closer to discovering their leaders whereabouts via discussion, than when they had arrived in the field.

"I have no idea where Lord Galvatron would have taken your Prime," Cyclonus said at last, after many moments of contemplation. "Usually he's declaring his intentions to the high heavens."

Ultra Magnus crossed his arms. "His silence worries me this time around. Who knows what he's been doing, or if the two of them are even together? For all we know, the Quintessons are responsible for this."

Cyclonus heard the familiar sound of his leader's anti-gravity systems, and turned. He spotted the familiar purple paint in the distance, and prayed Ultra Magnus couldn't hear the cycled air of relief. "I suppose we'll be finding out in a moment."

The two sub-commanders stared openly as Galvatron touched down in the field, with Rodimus Prime thrown over his shoulder. The red mech's helm tapped up and down against Galvatron's back, legs held secure up front, as the purple leader strode with full confidence across the open area. He stopped before the Autobot and Decepticon.

"Good! At least you two have got this thing down," Galvatron said in approval. Leader vs leader. Sub-Commander vs Sub-Commander. It was how things operated.

"Rodimus!" Ultra Magnus said, anger burning in his eyes upon seeing the wounded Autobot leader. "What have you done?"

"Had a little one-on-one time," Galvatron said, smacking the back of Rodimus Prime's thigh. "I think we had a good talk."

Ultra Magnus moved forward to catch the Prime as Galvatron dropped him on the ground. He pulled the Autobot Leader away from Galvatron and grit his teeth. Galvatron smirked. Good.

"Come, Cyclonus!" Galvatron said, beckoning his second. "We have work to do!"

"Y-yes, Mighty Galvatron. Of course," Cyclonus answered, following his leader as he swiftly turned and began to walk away.

Ultra Magnus cradled Rodimus Prime close to his chest, as the two Decepticons walked away. He looked down at the young Prime and wondered aloud, "What was that about?"

"He wants me to be Optimus," Rodimus said, softly. "He misses his rival, that's all."

"Rodimus!" Ultra Magnus said, unaware his leader was still awake. Ignoring the weighted statement, he instead asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah," Rodimus smirked, though it was deformed through the energon stains and the crack in his face-plate. "By the time I'm done with him, he's going to wish I was Optimus."

Ultra Magnus smiled a touch—just the faintest flicker. "I bet he will."


End file.
